


Don’t Assume Obliviousness

by angelbabe_cj



Series: Holiday Prompt Ficlets 2015 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Nobody is actually oblivious, mystery presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelbabe_cj/pseuds/angelbabe_cj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy should stop making assumptions </p>
<p>Holiday Prompts 2015: I’ve seen the way you look at me when you don’t think I notice from Gelsey</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Assume Obliviousness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gelsey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/gifts).



> Thanks so much to [Gelsey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gelsey/pseuds/Gelsey) for betaing her own prompt.

People thought he was oblivious or some sort of monk. Or some combination of the two. It wasn’t true, of course, but he wasn’t exactly open either. The problem tended to come when people also thought he was oblivious. They thought he couldn’t see what was in front of his nose or just to the side of it. Or basically that he couldn’t see the signs.

Admittedly he wasn’t the most experienced man around, but he still had eyes in his head, even if they needed glasses on them to be accurate. He could see when someone was looking at him. Even when it was only ever when they thought he was looking the other way. 

It hadn’t been obvious at first, as their friendship had begun to grow from their working relationship at the Ministry. It probably hadn’t started right away. He certainly hadn’t thought of her that way straight away. But now he saw the softness of her curves beneath the work robes, contemplated the spring of her hair as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and tried to keep his eyes from fixating on the tightness of her jeans when they saw each other at weekends for coffee or when she joined them all for a family meal.

The first few times he’d seen it he thought he was mistaken, projecting what he wanted to see into her eyes and glances. He began to believe though, particularly when he caught her gazing at him from over the top of a book she appeared to be involved in. She was even still turning the pages at her usual rate, but his covert contemplation of her meant he knew she hadn’t read a word of the last three pages she had turned. 

He knew that part of her hesitance was what she had once shared with Ron. It had happened in the aftermath of the war, of Fred’s death. It had burned bright and brilliant and swiftly died in a flurry of fights and realisations that they didn’t fit together as well as they had once thought. It had taken some time, but they had become friends again. Enough that Percy’s own friendship with her wasn’t remarked upon outside the usual teasing which ran through their family like wildfire.

So it came to this. He had invited her out to tea. Not at Puddifoot’s, but a small friendly café with a reliably less twee decoration. They had visited before, and both commented on the quality of the cakes as they ate them alongside piles of work they were combining. Now that he thought of it she might have misinterpreted his invitation as a work-related one. He hoped not. He brushed another imaginary speck of dust from his trousers. He didn’t wear them often, preferring robes most of the time, but it seemed like a good time to wear them.

He spotted her coming in, her hair pulled back and a wide scarf wrapped around her neck to fight off the cold. He stood and greeted her with their now customary brief hug, gesturing for her to sit.

“It’s good to see you, Percy,” Hermione said, slipping off her long cloak to reveal that the boots he had seen poking from the bottom had not got jeans tucked in the top as he suspected, but instead thick black tights and a deep purple woolen skirt topped with a warm-looking white jumper. He swallowed convulsively and sat back down. 

“And you, Hermione,” he replied, after a brief hesitation. Then he looked at the bag she had brought in with her and appeared to be about to dig in. “I hope you didn’t misunderstand my invitation. I had no plans to work. I thought we could enjoy one another’s company for a change, without any pressing plans,” he said at a rush.

She looked up then, paused in the act of undoing the buckle on her bag, and smiled. “No, not at all, Percy. I was simply going to take the opportunity to give you your Christmas gift,” she said, something mischievous in her tone.

He startled. “I haven’t, er, that is to say I had planned to exchange gifts with you as usual when you visit the Burrow during the festive period,” he said, knowing he had come to this meeting empty of hand, but full of mind. And his eyes would keep drifting back to her somewhat exposed legs, easily visible over the low table which separated their two squashy chairs. So unlike robes, which rarely exposed a person’s legs and instead shrouded them in swathes of fabric. Percy took a breath.

Hermione laughed, a light little thing, amused by something, although he couldn’t say what.

“No, no, I have a normal present for you too, but I thought I’d let you have that one to open by yourself,” she said, retrieving a small wrapped box from her bag. It had a pattern of bells and snitches.

Percy frowned. “I… I don’t understand,” he said, looking at the small package she now handed him. It had no real weight to it, and yet it felt significant somehow. He looked at her, feeling the frown pinching his features.

She smiled again. “You’ll see when you open it. Which you shouldn’t do here,” she added.

Just then a waitress came by and they ordered a full afternoon tea for two. It took him a moment or two to sort himself into focussing on the waitress rather than Hermione or the package in his hands.

“You were going to explain?” he prompted, as they began to wait for their refreshments.

She nodded and took a breath. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you don’t think I notice,” she said, meeting his eyes fully for what he was the first time since they had sat down. At least the first time her eyes had rested on his rather than flicking up and away. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and his eyes were drawn to it, which made her smile. He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it. “I know you do, because I know you’ve seen me doing the same thing.”

“Oh,” he said softly, prodding his glasses back up his nose by nervous habit. 

He barely realised it, but a slow smile was spreading over his face. He looked down at the present, suddenly intensely curious about what was in it. He would have to wait to find out.

Perhaps this would work out after all, he thought. After all, he shouldn’t have assumed she was oblivious either.


End file.
